The Man with the Clubfoot eBook

I had hoped that the conversation might now be carried
on again in German. Nothing of the kind.
The room leant back in its chairs, as if expecting
the fun to go on.

It did.

“You get your clothes in London,” the
young officer said.

He was a trimly built young man, very pale from recent
illness, with flaxen hair and a bright, bold blue
eye—­the eye of a fighter. His left
sleeve was empty and was fastened across his tunic,
in a button-hole of which was twisted the black and
white ribbon of the Iron Cross.

“Generally,” I answered shortly, “when
I go to England. Clothes are cheaper in London.”

“You must have a good ear for languages,”
Schmalz continued; “you speak German like a
German and English ...” he paused appreciably,
“... like an Englishman.”

I felt horribly nervous. This young man never
took his eyes off me: he had been staring at
me ever since I had entered the room. His manner
was perfectly calm and suave.

Still I kept my end up very creditably, I think.

“And not a bad accomplishment, either,”
I said, smiling brightly, “if one has to visit
London in war-time.”

Schmalz smiled back with perfect courtesy. But
he continued to stare relentlessly at me. I felt
scared.

“What is Schmalz jabbering about now?”
said one of the dug-outs. I translated for the
benefit of the company. My resume gave the dug-out
who had spoken the opportunity for launching out on
an interminable anecdote about an ulster he had bought
on a holiday at Brighton. The story lasted until
the white-gloved orderly came and announced that “a
gentleman” was there, asking for the Herr Major.

“That’ll be your man,” exclaimed
the Major, starting up—­I noticed he made
no attempt to bring the stranger in. “Come,
let us go to him!”

I stood up and took my leave. Schmalz came to
the door of the anteroom with us.

“You are going to Berlin?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Where shall you be staying?” he asked
again.

“Oh, probably at the Adlon!”

“I myself shall be in Berlin next week for my
medical examination, and perhaps we may meet again.
I should much like to talk more with you about America
... and London. We must have mutual acquaintances.”

I murmured something about being only too glad, at
the same time making a mental note to get out of Berlin
as soon as I conveniently could.

CHAPTER VIII

I HEAR OF CLUBFOOT AND MEET HIS EMPLOYER

As we went down the staircase, the Major whispered
to me:

“I don’t think your man wished me to know
his name, for he did not introduce himself when he
arrived and he does not come to our Casino. But
I know him for all that: it is the young Count
von Boden, of the Uhlans of the Guard: his father,
the General, is one of the Emperor’s aides-de-camp:
he was, for a time, tutor to the Crown Prince.”